Arthur awakes in the golden wood. He has dreamed of a silver cup or a stone that fell from the sky. He cannot remember which and wonders if it matters. The campfire has gone out….
Browsing Category Flash Fiction Feature
Backyard Weather
Raking eucalyptus leaves isn’t the same as raking oak leaves. October is different here. Yet the task commands our back yard and its brittle cold morning. Wood smoke and the distant buzz of chainsaws gathered…
View from a Moon of Jupiter
We have been living here for years, and still they call this place “uninhabitable” in the news. “Too arid for growing crops,” they report. “The winds rage at night, with a noise alien even to…
a marriage
“a marriage” is dedicated to the poet and dancer, Sandra Doller. Kaneshiro Araki was the tiniest man Margaret Morri had ever seen, at just under eight inches tall, weighing in at two pounds, six ounces…
Dead Languages
The last known speakers of American English were garbage men. In a rural county of Ohio they worked sorting trash for a nanoshuffler that emitted ozone and vitamin gas. They spoke normally elsewhere, but since…